


Every Man Jack

by Capella (Caprina)



Series: Sea Longing Series [12]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprina/pseuds/Capella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High jinks on the high seas...</p><p>A piece of unashamed smut that was written before 'The Sea of Sand' but fits chronologically between chapters 1 and 2 of the epic.</p><p>Written in the early 2000's under the name Capella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Man Jack

“The helm is yours, Captain; I would go below for a time,” called Imrahil as the sun sank to the horizon. “Prince Legolas, will you join me?”

The elf leapt nimbly down from his perch in the prow as Gedrinel stepped up to the great wheel. 

“Aye, My Lord.” The tall man's smile fell just to the right side of familiar. “I shall be keeping her on a steady course, unless you have a reason to make haste.” 

“Indeed not,” replied Imrahil, smiling in return. “On a night such as this, who would not choose to sleep at sea?” 

Turning to his lover, his arm held wide in a gesture of invitation, the prince could not fail to notice the expressions of the sailors nearby. It was well that these were men to whom he had entrusted his life a dozen times in the past, men he knew to be true and loyal. Were they less familiar faces, the story they told would have had him reaching for his sword.

Imrahil had in fact spoken to the captain at some length before bringing Legolas to the ship. Sea faring men were more open-minded than most regarding affairs of the heart, but their superstitions were not to be ignored, and an elf aboard was something new. Gedrinel, an old friend, had been wholly reassuring if less than discreet. “They think the world of you, and you know it,” he had responded without a pause. “Like me, they will simply be glad to see you happy again.”

In the privacy of the royal quarters, Imrahil handed Legolas a glass of the dark southern wine. “Well, my love,” he said, “How are you enjoying the voyage thus far?”

“Need you ask?” Legolas's fair features spoke openly of his happiness. “To be out at sea like this... The ship is magnificent, and the crew so well drilled, it is a joy to watch them work.”

“You enjoy watching the crew,” Imrahil repeated wryly, marvelling at the elf's apparent innocence. A wicked thought began to make itself known at the edges of his mind. “Almost as much as they enjoy watching you, perhaps.”

“Watching me?”

“Oh, come now, surely you have seen the way they look at you.” Imrahil took a step closer to Legolas. 

“They are civil enough to me,” replied the elf coolly.

“Of course they are! These are hand-picked men and not one amongst them would treat you with disrespect.” He put his glass down on the map chest and reached out a hand to stroke the elf's cheek. “But that does not stop them wanting you. Do you not see the hunger in their faces?”

“Imrahil! You know I would look for no such thing.” A frown drew the elf's brows together, but in his eyes there was the merest glimpse of something else. Imrahil had spent long enough hours studying his lover to recognise such small signs. He suppressed a smile.

“Oh, drop the mask,” he said. “You are only speaking to me. There is no need to make the effort to appear pure and innocent; indeed I think it is a little late for you to do so. Will you pretend that you do not know how these men react to you, or that the knowledge does not excite you, on some level?” 

Legolas did his best to appear affronted. “Would you turn me into a monster, vain and self-satisfied?” he said sharply. “The only one from whom I desire such a response is yourself. How others view me is their own affair and no fault of my own.”

Imrahil relented. Stepping closer still, he took the elf's glass and set it down beside his own. Then he wrapped both arms around Legolas and buried his face in the long golden hair at the side of the elf's neck. 

“You know what you do to me,” he said as he emerged a moment later. “I could never get enough of you.” 

As Legolas started to relax in his arms, Imrahil applied sufficient pressure to move him backwards until he met the table behind. After a long and thorough kiss the man ran his hands down to the elf's hips. “Off with these,” he said softly, reaching beneath his lover's tunic to pluck at the cotton leggings.

Legolas gave him a searching look, then flicked his eyes briefly to the door.

“As you wish, I shall lock it,” laughed Imrahil, striding across the room, “although I doubt that any of the crew would be foolish enough to disturb us without adequate warning.”

By the time he turned back to Legolas, the elf had removed his lower garments and stood clad only in his pale green tunic. Imrahil walked to his side and swept the maps and scrolls from the table impatiently.

“Get up,” he said.

Without a word Legolas did as he was told, pushing himself up to sit on the heavy oak surface. Imrahil moved to stand before him, and with a hand under each knee lifted and parted the elf's legs, bringing his feet up to rest on the table's edge. As Imrahil bent forward to start work on the tunic clasps, Legolas leaned back to rest on his elbows, his eyes locked with his lover’s all the while.

“Will you unclothe yourself also, that I may look at you?” asked the elf, as Imrahil pushed the fine fabric of his tunic to the sides, leaving the pale torso quite exposed. 

“No, I will not,” said Imrahil emphatically, running his gaze slowly up and down the elf's gloriously displayed form. “I most definitely prefer to have you at a disadvantage like this.”

Legolas breathed in sharply and his eyes widened. His cock, already straight and firm, twitched noticeably. It was enough to unleash Imrahil's inner demon once more. 

“By the gods, Legolas,” he said in a low voice. “No man looking at you could fail to be moved to lustful thoughts. It is small wonder that every sailor on the ship dreams of touching you.”

“Imrahil -” the elf’s remonstrations were rapidly silenced by gentle hands stroking down his inner thighs.

“This vessel is crewed by brave men who have served me well over many years,” the prince went on, continuing to caress the elf's soft skin. “Do you not think that they deserve a reward for their loyalty?”

“What do you have in mind?” Legolas spoke evenly, but he was clearly working hard to remain still under Imrahil's touch.

“I thought they might draw lots.” Imrahil brought one hand down between the elf's legs and began running his fingers very lightly over the smooth sac and the delicate flesh behind. 

Legolas gasped and closed his eyes before speaking again. This time his voice was unsteady. “And the prize?”

“The prize would be you, my beautiful elf, stripped naked for the winner to do with as he pleased - on one condition only.” Imrahil watched closely as the blue eyes opened wide, waiting for the elf's astonished protest. When no objection came the words of apology died on his lips. This might be uncharted territory, but he had not misjudged his lover.

“One condition?” Legolas said faintly, his hips beginning to move in rhythm with the hand now stroking firmly, palm flat across his balls.

“That whatever he chooses to do to you, he does it out there on the main deck while all the others stand by and watch.” Saying the words aloud was enough to swell Imrahil's own cock to uncomfortable hardness, while Legolas had apparently given up any hope of a struggle. He pushed unashamedly into the man's hand and gazed at Imrahil with a plea in his eyes.

Imrahil took a deep breath and drew his palm back slightly. This was too good to rush.

“It is a well known fact that what a sailor lacks in finesse, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm,” he said slyly. “I wonder which of them it would be, thrusting into you with all the force of his pent-up desire? Broad-shouldered Dirgan, maybe, or Renúil with his enormous hands... perhaps even Gedrinel himself. He would take command of your body as masterfully as he runs the ship; you would be helpless beneath him, I'd wager.” 

Legolas swallowed, the movement of his throat clearly visible. His hips were raised off the table as he rubbed himself against Imrahil's teasing hand. “What about you, Imrahil?” he managed to breathe. “Would you leave me there, simply abandon me to your men?”

Imrahil grinned and took the elf's cock in a firm grip. “Oh no... I would be kneeling behind you, holding you down,” he said, “and watching you being thoroughly ravished.”

“Oh...” Legolas seemed unable to form a coherent response.

“And if our lucky winner needed it, which I very much doubt, I would be there to offer him some guidance.”

“Guidance...?” It was little more than a whisper. 

“I would see the job done properly,” said Imrahil, running the fingers of his left hand down between the elf's buttocks while his right kept up its firm, insistent strokes, “So that every man Jack of them might witness you reaching your completion, screaming out your delight at being so roughly used.”

Legolas's cry was, in fact, too clear and musical to be described as a scream. He called out Imrahil's name as he convulsed under his lover's hands. Imrahil watched in satisfaction as copious quantities of pale fluid splashed across the elf's chest. 

By the time Legolas had calmed a little, Imrahil had his own breeches unfastened and his painfully full erection freed from its constraints. He grabbed the elf's hips and hauled them across the polished wood towards him. Legolas, speechless as he was, cooperated by lifting his feet up to the man's shoulders and resting his ankles there.

If the table had been built for this specific purpose, it could not have been made to a better height. The ridiculous notion did not linger in Imrahil's mind; once he was inside his lover, the welter of sensation did not allow for much coherent thought.

He could have been lost within seconds, had he not known how much sweeter the prize would be for waiting. As it was he forced himself to hold back until he was certain that the elf's second peak was close. Once Legolas was moaning continuously, shifting his head from side to side and rocking up into Imrahil's thrusts, the man spoke.

“Touch yourself, my love,” he gasped, “I want to come with you, and I cannot...” His own arms were braced against the table to either side of the elf's hips.

Legolas's eyes were dark as he stared up at his lover and moved to obey his request. Imrahil, sweating with exertion, gave a final, brutal push and abandoned himself to the inevitable. He cried out in unison with the elf as his orgasm overwhelmed him. It was a long and noisy climax, as each of them gave voice to his pleasure without restraint.

It was only later, when they lay curled around each other on the divan, exchanging gentle touches and murmurs as lovers do in the aftermath, that Imrahil found himself consumed by a possessive fervour. He shifted up onto one elbow so he could focus on Legolas's eyes.

“You know that I would kill any man who laid a hand on you, whatever I may say for our amusement,” he said fiercely.

“Let us hope you will never be driven to such extreme lengths,” said Legolas, raising an eyebrow. “But I understand your true meaning; and in the same vein, I trust that you know I would not surrender my body to any man but you.” He pulled Imrahil down to stroke his hair languidly. “I do appreciate the distinction between fantasy and reality, my sweet prince.”

“Of course you do,” Imrahil admitted, somewhat ashamed of his outburst.

“But who would have thought you had such wickedness in you?” The elf continued.

Imrahil looked at him suspiciously. Legolas was giving nothing away, so he took the comment at face value. “No more than finds its match in you,” he retorted smartly.

“You are right, and that is the most astonishing fact of all. I might have lived out my days as a simple, blameless wood-elf, had I not met you.” 

Now Imrahil was sure that he was being teased, but he chose to take his time in responding. He ran his lips along the elf’s collarbone and placed several kisses in the hollow of his throat before speaking. “Are you greatly disturbed by the discovery of your own depravity? Do you yearn daily for your lost innocence?”

Legolas’s body shook with quiet laughter. He wriggled against Imrahil in a manner which was anything but ingenuous. “No, indeed,” he owned. “I would not make such an outrageous claim, even in jest. How could I possibly regret the pleasure we share together?”

There was silence for a time as they indulged in a deep, ardent kiss. Imrahil felt his body stirring into life once more and knew that the elf’s excitement mirrored his own. Truly, the Valar must love him beyond measure, to have blessed him so.

“And are you not concerned,” Legolas said at last, “that the men of your ship should be so aware of your… passions? Sound travels well through wooden walls such as these.”

Imrahil circled his fingers on the elf’s belly and chuckled close to his ear. “No, my love, it does not worry me,” he said. “I am more than happy for them to know that whatever they may wish for in their dreams, in reality you belong to me.”

“Mmm.” Like a great cat taunted from its ease into displaying its strength, Legolas suddenly caught his wrist and pushed his arm to the side, rolling him unresisting onto his back. Imrahil looked up into the ageless face, saw the mirth there and the intensity behind it, and shivered.

“And you?” the elf enquired in a dangerous tone.

“I am yours unconditionally, now and always, and I care not who knows it,” said Imrahil without hesitation. “You may do with me as you will.”

“Good.” Legolas’s smile was dazzling, but far from sweet. A firm nudge of his knee against Imrahil’s thigh directed the man towards the edge of the divan. “Then go and fetch me that strap, the wide leather one around the chest, there.” He indicated with a slight nod of the head. “I have a mind to put it to a more… decorative use.”

Imrahil crossed the room to do his lover’s bidding on legs that felt strangely weak. If he allowed himself to imagine exactly what the elf had in mind, he feared his knees might give way altogether. He forced his thoughts to other matters in an attempt to remain calm. It was well that they had eaten heartily at the midday meal, he reflected. This evening it would seem that Captain Gedrinel was destined to dine alone.


End file.
